Stress baking: Destressing or disorder?

Content Warning: Disordered eating  

I baked 75 raspberry and chocolate cupcakes the first time I had my heart broken.  

When my childhood dog passed away, I spent weeks perfecting my chocolate chip cookies.  

During my first year of uni deadlines, I trialed every gooey brownie recipe Google provided.  

In moments where anxieties fester, I knead them away. I watch them rise inside dough, only to punch them down once they’ve dwelled too long. I feel lighter as they cook. After, the house smells like baking. And my mind, for the moment, is at ease.  

Stress baking is more than just wanting to whip up batches of cookies – it’s coping mechanism to get people out of their own heads. Baking is an absorbing activity which uses all five of our senses. You can’t doom scroll with cookie dough on your hands, nor do you have time to think about much else when all your focus is on a recipe’s detailed instructions. 

Art / Luka Maresca

According to researcher Mintel Group, stress baking surged in popularity during the pandemic, with US sales of baking mixes and ingredients rising 25%.  

The Wall Street Journal found that 40% of US consumers baked more post-Covid, with 34% using baking as self-care. 

Professor Kirsty Ross, Massey University’s head of the School of Psychology, explains when routines became restricted in 2020, people sought structure. "Baking had that structure and a predictable outcome during an unpredictable time where people didn’t feel in control." 

For me however, the habit came from a learnt love of baking, and relaxation as a result. And then eventually abusing this.  

As a child, I spent school holidays on my grandparent’s farm. My grandmother would guide my small hands through the notions of kneading dough, creaming butter and sugar, and testing if a cake was done with a gentle press of my fingertip. Baking wasn’t just an activity — it was a ritual, a form of love, a shared language between us.  

The memories I have of baking feel golden, untouched by worry.   

As I moved into my teenage years, my relationship with baking became more complicated. Social media labelled my childhood favourites as ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Older family members, raised on diet-culture fads and calorie counting, added to the noise. I started seeing food less as something to savour and more as something to control.  

Ross explains, “Your relationship with food is shaped by how food was dealt with within your family and how you were nourished.”  

As my own eating habits dwindled — my baking persisted in a new form. Instead of nourishing myself with the things I made, I pushed them onto others. I’d bake tray after tray of cookies, plate up towering cakes, and watch as others enjoyed them, as if their satisfaction could fill the space I refused to.   

Ross says this pattern isn’t uncommon among people struggling with disordered thoughts about food, shape and weight. She emphasises the importance of mindfulness when you use a strategy like stress baking. She tells me that any coping strategy, when overused, can become unhelpful. “Something can start off being really functional and helpful, and then context changes and your needs change, and it may no longer be that way.” 

Ross says having a variety of tools to manage stress is key. “Trying to match up the need that you have with a strategy in your toolkit is really helpful. If you’re feeling bored while you’re studying, or you’re feeling lonely because you’ve just moved into a new flat, actively thinking about how you use these strategies is important.”  

On the other hand, Ross says stress baking doesn’t have to be something deeper than needing a break from studying. But for those whose relationship with food carries extra emotional weight, it’s worth reflecting on whether baking is meeting a genuine need in a healthy way.  

My healing process meant reclaiming baking for myself.  

I had to learn how to be present in the process again. To enjoy the rich scent of vanilla icing and the warmth of a fresh scone with butter melting into it. Most importantly, I had to allow myself to enjoy what I created — not just as an act of self-care, but as a reminder that food isn’t something to fear. It’s something to be shared, yes, but also something to be savoured.